#this is 4000 words

[pinimi]

Armand orchestrated Madeleine’s death because she so easily outcunted him. Absolutely no effort just laughed him in the face at his questions “yeah I can live and be mentally stable for eternity. what, like it’s hard?” she said skill issue if you can’t handle killing as a vampire. Every night Armand has seven different existential crisis and Madeleine sleeps soundly without a shred of guilt WHILE ALSO looking dead drop gorgeous and being funnier than everyone around her. Armand had to take her out early. He never stood a chance

[dr3amfyr-e]

brat. - j.v. ( w. 4.5k )

꒰ in which the boy you see every summer enrolls in the same university as you. ꒱ — modern!jacaerys velayron x reader

୨ ⎯ i cannot stress enough, football means ⚽️ not 🏈. childhood-friends-to-lovers, but you have to get through my 2000 word psychoanalysis and backstory first. light angst. mention of the death of a parent. lots and lots of talk about the velaryon-targaryen-hightower family dynamic. light make out action. reader's family is implied to be wealthy enough to have a summer home. almost everyone lives au. set in the uk, not westeros. omitted daemon rhaenyra marriage because there’s no way to to make it even semi-normal. realizing now i omitted daemon entirely erm sorry. pushing the laenor agenda bc he’s my favorite character. this is abhorently long. extreme overuse of the em-dash. uhh the perspective is wonky in a few places. part two. ⎯ ୧

i had to write this twice. i'm offering this to you with shaking hands, like a peasent child begging for coins. i may write a part two because i have more to say, but i don't want to figure it out rn.

On the cold January morning that Jacaerys Velaryon-Targaryen was born, the media went into a frenzy. 

The Targaryens were old money, their fortune rooted a century back in good investments. Historically adept at finding their way into things, the empire had a string to pull in every industry. From art and law to technology and shipping, if business prospects looked good there would be a Targaryen investment.

And then there were the dogs — regal greyhounds, with long, thin bodies and sleek coats. The Targaryens bred them as far back as bloodline records went. The pups were never for sale; sometimes they were used as show dogs, and successful show dogs they were, but more often they were pets. It was a status symbol, to nonchalantly own such a coveted creature. 

The Targaryens were idolized in the public eye. They were all stunning, with sharp features and silver hair, and each member of the family seemed to possess a Midas touch. But, where Valyrian blood ran hot, so did the press. It was no surprise when magazines started to turn a profit from silver heads plastered across their glossy covers. It was the price that came with God-like aristocracy.

From editorials to gossip columns, people devoured the insider life of the untouchables. When Aemma Targaryen died, there was a four-page spread in nearly every magazine; complete with pictures and quotes. Business papers filled with opinion pieces about Rhaenyra’s inheritance claim to her family’s empire; magazines exploded with the announcement of her engagement to Laenor Velaryon, and subsequently Viserys’ marriage to Alicent Hightower, the daughter of his lawyer. 

When Jacaerys was born, reporters lined up outside of the hospital doors. There were cameras and microphones and crew trucks, and Rhaenyra hated it. It wasn’t the way she wished to welcome her child into the world — swarmed by people who didn’t know nor care for him.

Laenor had always been good at navigating the attention, and Rhaenyra was constantly grateful. So, when he pulled his gaze from the babe and steeled himself to deal with the onslaught of reporters outside, tears pricked at her eyes. Appreciation, exhaustion, adoration? She couldn’t be sure. 

Looking down at her son, she thought, he’s perfect. He had a smattering of dark hair, and he was quiet but not concerningly so. Wispy lashes fell upon his cherub cheeks, and when he eventually blinked up at her his eyes were dark. He looked nothing like her — she didn’t care. 

She refused to talk to anyone outside of her family, and had the curtains in her private room drawn. To expose her son, her heart, to the prying eyes of the bored masses with nary a care for his well-being was a nightmare. She wouldn’t have him exploited. 

At the time of Jacaerys’ birth, she and Laenor had been married for a little over a year. Laenor’s father, Corlys, managed the bulk of the import and export for Viserys’ company. Corlys was a good man, he hadn’t dreamed of marrying his son off. But Laenor and Rhaenyra were both in the same impossible situation: the wiles of youth mixed with the ever critical public. 

They had both fallen into scandalous relationships, both preyed on by paparazzi. If they married one another, it would save face for both of their families. Plus — both being the eldest and heir, this would clear the expectation of a dignified marriage. They agreed to leave each other to whatever youthful fun they wanted to have, as long as everything was discreet. 

Both the Velaryons and the Targaryens kept a summer home in Dragonstone, a private community in coastal Wales. It was the perfect place for Rhaenyra and Laenor to begin their life — far from her father, close to his parents, and out of the line of sight for any nosy journalist. 

The public eye had looked to other things by the time Lucerys was born, two years later. Again, Laenor dealt with the small gathering of reporters with the utmost grace, and Rhaenyra submitted a written statement. 

Alicent divorced Viserys that same year. 

As she watched her boys grow up, full of energy and life, Rhaenyra thought, there was no one better to parent with than her best friend — a title Laenor had rightfully earned. They hadn’t had much choice in knowing each other, and they certainly would never have chosen to be married, but he made a bearable roommate. They had things in common; they liked the same music, and the same men. They drank the same wine and frequented the same restaurants. And, they both loved their boys. 

As Jace and Luke grew up, they found the best company in each other — the school in Dragonstone was so small, though, that there were very few other options. They both played on the school’s small football team, and Jace took piano lessons while Luke learned to fence. Where Jace was driven by emotion, Luke was level-headed; where Luke was cautiously quiet, Jace spoke his mind. It was an ideal childhood, the Welsh coast was an idyllic backdrop to grow up upon, with the sea in their backyard. 

They were ten and eight when Joffrey was born, both excited for their new brother. Their mother brought him home, bundled in a soft red blanket. The boys sat on the couch beside Rhaenys and stared at him for upwards of an hour. 

Hardly a week had passed when Harwin Strong died. He was a family friend, a frequent presence in their home and life — Jace and Luke had been upset by this, of course. 

In time they came to understand the situation fully. Jacaerys first, fitting the pieces together with the evidence he found in the mirror. Neither Rhaenyra nor Laenor had dark hair, like he and his brothers. 

His matriline was uncontestable though, as he grew into himself. He possessed the same nose, jaw, brow, and high cheekbones that Rhaenyra wore. The comparisons between the two became more frequent as he grew older, and he found himself to be quite proud to look like her. 

Her attitude lived in him as well, the temperament she had been so notorious for as a girl festered in her eldest son. She had once been christened ‘The Princess of Dragonstone’ after flipping off a reporter at their summer home. Jacearys earned it for himself when he was fifteen, after loudly berating a reporter. He had been defending Luke, but no one seemed to care when they deigned him ‘The Prince of Dragonstone’. He took it with grace, claiming that he couldn’t help but be his mother’s child.

It instilled a sense of public propriety he strove to uphold. 

Rhaenyra remarried the same year — to Alicent Hightower — and moved her children from Wales to London. It took a while to adjust to the new life — Jace liked his new school, but he detested his step-brothers. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t come around to the idea of living with Aemond and Aegon, who took so much pleasure in making he and his brothers miserable. 

After the first month, Jacaerys fell in brilliantly. He performed well in school, quickly being enrolled in the advanced literature and history courses. He got on well with his peers, and made a number of friends. He joined the football team and spent his Sunday afternoons learning piano concertos. 

Living in London made him a more publicly prominent figure in his family's legacy. He knew how to play his role as heir; he carried himself perfectly — confident and charming and elegant. He didn’t particularly like being in the public eye, but there was a certain sense of satisfaction when he did something to receive positive public attention. 

King’s Landing, much like where he had grown up, was a community reserved for the upper echelon. Situated in Northwest London, and surrounded by wrought iron gates, it was regal and dignified. The house had high, vaulted ceilings, large stained glass windows, and more than enough bedrooms. It rained more, Jacaerys noticed in the first month. When it had rained in Dragonstone he would watch the droplets bounce off the sea, where it lapped at the sandy bay. Here the rain splattered unceremoniously upon the pavement. 

For as wonderful as life in London had turned out, Jacaerys found himself longing for what was left behind in Dragonstone. Laenor lived there still, and while he called often and visited as much as he could, it wasn’t the same. Jace’s childhood bedroom remained, along with all of the memories in the house he grew up in. And his friends. There was an assortment of people he only saw between late May and early September; the children of the other seasonal residents. The number had dwindled in years past, with fewer of them returning for break — favouring more interesting places, like Ibiza or Rome, as they got older. 

Far too few of his childhood friends he kept in contact with, especially after the move to London. You were the exception. 

He was grateful, on days when it stormed in London, to receive a silly text or too-long voice note. It made things feel less dull — you had a way of doing that. 

He took to reading theory around the time he turned seventeen. It’s queer theory, at the suggestion of his cousin Baela, who lent him his first Judith Butler book. He finished it that weekend. 

His aunt Laena and her two daughters lived in London, and Jace found a close comrade in Baela. She played competitive tennis and listened to riot grrrl, she was much cooler than him and he knew it. Her bedroom held two massive bookshelves, and she let him pillage her collection for De Bouvier and Didion and Gay. Hours were spent lying across the floor in Laena’s house, studying, or reading, or talking. He enjoyed Baela’s company more than any of his school friends, favouring anything with her over anything with the boys from his football team. 

His youngest sister, Visenya, turned one around the same time. Baela, staying with Jacaerys while he babysat one night, inducted him into the eldest daughter club. 

“You’re so keen on driving your siblings around, and taking care of them. Plus, aren’t you your mother’s closest confidant?” She asked. 

True, Jace supposed. He was the oldest of Rhaenyra’s children, and the most responsible of his brothers and step-siblings. His mums both worked full time, they were busy but as involved as possible. Jace just did the menial things. He made Joffrey breakfast, picked Luke up after school, and watched Visenya when necessary. He didn’t mind.

Baela argued that he should mind. 

He had been a sensitive child, more so than his brothers, but it made him incredibly emotionally adept as he aged. So many boys his age prided themselves on stoicism, but that was never something Jace felt connected to. He always felt things too deeply to bottle them up — it accounted for the occasional temper that flared up when he was upset, but also how empathetic and kind he was. 

Jacearys was set to graduate with honours in the first week of May. It was three months before when college acceptance letters began to appear in the mail. He had applied to a number of places, and been accepted everywhere. The University of the Vale was where his hopes hinged though. 

Just after Valentine's Day, it showed up. The envelope was wide and stuffed full, and sealed with a wax stamp. His acceptance letter was on the very top of the stack of papers — the thick paper heavy in his hands, as he admired the blue printed border and silver flocking. 

Rhaenrya sorted through the informational packets while Jace reread the letter. Part of him couldn’t believe it was real.

He sends you a picture of the letter, and you respond in kind with one of an identical nature. 

You hadn’t planned to go to the same university, but it certainly was a happy coincidence. 

After graduation, he was beyond excited for the reprieve that Dragonstone granted. The promise of early morning hikes, and evenings spent on the beach — the once empty house, full of life and bustling with bodies. 

You were the first thing Jacaerys thought to look for when he set his bags down in the summer home. 

It was late May, and you were guaranteed to be out of school. I’ll text after I unpack, he thought, pulling clothes and books from his suitcase. 

His room in Dragonstone had once been his childhood bedroom. The walls were a warm tone of white, and the small bed was still covered with his blue and white checkered duvet. Piano scales and pictures of his brothers and friends adorn the walls. There was a soccer trophy on the back edge of his desk, something he had won when he was eleven. It was stuffy from nine months of stagnance, but familiar all the same. 

He pushed the curtains back from the window to let sunlight filter into the dusty room, gazing down at the beach, when he spotted your figure. He was quick to rush downstairs, out the backdoor, and across the stone path that leads from the patio to the beach. He greets you with a call of your name and a tight hug, sunglasses perched atop his head and linen shirt half buttoned. 

It had been a year since he’d last seen you. You had kept in touch during the school year; Jace favoured Snapchat and FaceTime, delighted with the pleasure of seeing the mundane things you were up to. There was a nearly constant text thread, and voice memos passed back and forth. But, it all paled in comparison to physical company. 

He abandoned his housekeeping duties, keen to sit on the beach and talk. And you did so for hours, about everything and nothing. He tells you about his last year of school and listens as you do the same. When the sun dipped past the treeline, he leaned back on his elbows, watching the water crest on the sand. He felt more at ease than he had in a while, enraptured by the ease of your presence. The conversation flowed, there were no awkward lulls and no pressure to talk about something dignified. It was comforting to be so close to someone who didn’t see much of his life in London — you knew the best version of him. 

Your friendship had always felt like that, from a young age. On days that smelled of sunscreen and sea salt in his mind, you would meet in the mornings and depart past dark and then do it again the next day, never tiring of each other. Your parents knew his, so you had always been welcome in his home — invited or not. You had shared a bed during sleepovers, drunk from the same cup, and fallen asleep on the couch during movie nights countless times. Quick glances and imperceptible expressions were a language you communicated in, reading each other without words. In your presence, Jace was the most comfortable.

The summer slipped away as it always did, taking long nights and leaving memories of sand and sunshine. The days were ambled away in the water, on rocky hiking paths, or in the meadow that sat a mile away from all of the homes. 

Jace had started The Hobbit before school ended — most days he found himself sprawled out in the park or on the beach, reading. He had also taken to running with his dog, Vermax, in the mornings. He relied on the serotonin boost to start the day, and with no football to play a jog was a decent alternative. 

When the summer drew to a close, the typical melancholy that befell the return to the real world wasn’t present in Jace’s mind. He presumed it had everything to do with the fact that he would see you every day now

You have one college class together — a nine a.m. medieval literature discussion. 

Clinging to familiarity in the new environment, he glued himself to your side for the first week of classes. He memorized the way to your dorm, meeting you outside every morning to walk together to your first lessons. The meandering conversation was a good start to the day, and he silently relished in your tired eyes and quiet voice, not yet used to the early schedule. 

On Friday he all but begged you to come back to his dorm after the discussion; it was your only class that day so you had given in. You hadn’t seen his living quarters yet, and he wanted to spend time with you, worried for when your schedules would fill up and you would lose room for each other. 

The discussion had been mind-numbing. You reviewed the same syllabus as the lecture, and went over the same rules and policies as every other class. With the thirty-five minutes remaining, the teaching assistant made everyone watch an incredibly monotone video about the history of medieval England. 

Jace linked his arm into yours in the hallway after class, pulling you to the doors. The cool morning air was refreshing, waking you up more as you walked across campus. His dorm building was new and modern, seventeen floors with grey siding and big windows. It was private housing, clearly expensive. 

He had a single room with an adjoining bathroom and a small common space. The walls were typical dorm white, with laminate wood flooring. Joffrey’s school photo is hung on one wall, the frame clearly decorated by the child with glitter and string. Scattered across the other walls were photographs in thin silver frames, a large world map, a clock, and a cross-stitch of a rainbow stag beetle.

Sitting on the couch, you observed the unframed photos that lay across the coffee table, inspecting a leggy grey dog as you plucked it from the pile, “Who is this?”

Jace leaned into your side, gazing at the photo, “My mum’s dog, Syrax,” He reached over you to tap the picture, “Syrax is my dog’s mum.” 

He slipped his hand into yours as you walked with him to his second class of the day.

In the third week of school, Jace asks you to attend a mixer for a pre-law society with him. He doesn't know anyone, and doesn't want to be alone at the party. You meet at his dorm at a quarter-to-six so you can walk to the event together. 

The dress-code is emi-formal, and when he opens the door to you his hair is slicked back with water and he smells like his cologne — musk, sandalwood, and amber. 

“Are your clothes pressed?” You ask, grinning at his freshly ironed slacks and the three buttons undone on his shirt. 

He rolls his eyes, locking the door behind him as he escorts you down the hallway. The walls of the elevator in his dorm are mirrored, and you laugh at him when you catch him taking pictures of himself. He makes you take one with him, and sets it as his lock screen. 

The mixer was in the dean of law’s massive house, buzzing with young people in smart outfits. Jace abandons you about fifteen minutes in, spotting a group of poli sci majors from his social psychology class. 

From his childhood spent between galas and his mother’s business meetings, Jace was good at navigating these situations. He was charming, leveling the professors with charismatic smiles and confident posture. He was good at holding an intelligent conversation, discussing theory and strategy. 

You were on the patio, watching the stars, when he found you an hour later.

His arms brushed yours as he leaned against the railing, “Sorry for leaving you,” His voice was quiet, and he stared at your profile, watching the way the moonlight illuminated your skin. 

You wave his apology off and make him buy you coffee in recompense on the way home. 

You’re stood talking together on the quadrangle a few weeks later, a cup of hot chocolate warming your mitten-less hands, when you realise just how cold it’s gotten. It's just too cold for the thin jacket that you try to sink further into, hiding from the wind that bites at your delicate skin.

Jace watches you shiver, observing your lack of appropriate attire. 

“Are you cold?” He asks, reaching out to run his hands up and down your arms, half to warm you, half to gauge how thick your jacket is. Not very. 

You nod, “I didn’t check the weather this morning.” 

He sighs with exaggerated exasperation and slides his arms around you, careful of the paper cup you held. Of course, he’s worn the right coat, and you feel the downy material of his hood against your cheek as he rubs your back to generate some warmth. You smell the cologne on his collar and the expensive shampoo he uses; he grumbled something about taking better care of yourself. 

Then, one particularly cold Friday morning he has forgotten his coat. Dressed in a hoodie, he mirrors your excuse from the week prior, smiling sheepishly — face flushed from the chilly air, dark curls blowing around his head like a halo. You take pity on him, slipping your scarf off. You loop it around his neck, tucking the ends down into the collar of his sweater, and leave him with a fond peck on the cheek; his skin is cold. 

He's appreciative, though the scarf does little against the cold wind cutting through his sweater. Still, he doesn't give the scarf back. 

With the cold, comes midterms. You’re the first person Jace asks to study. 

Your dorm room is closer to the central part of campus, and thus a shorter walk in the bitter cold. Jace brushes snow out of his hair as you unlock your door, ushering him inside. It's small. Two twin-sized beds, one on each wall, with nary enough room for two bodies between them; a desk is crammed into the small space between your bed and the window. You let him take the desk, spreading your books and notes out across your bed.

Your dorm is old, and the room has very little ventilation. Despite the frigidity outside, the room is stuffy and almost hot with both of your bodies inside. An hour into studying Jace shrugs off his heavy, knit sweater and pushes his glasses up into his hair. 

“What are you working on?” You ask, leaning forward. You’re bored, working on the same power point you started yesterday. You want to talk to him, though he doesn’t seem keen on the idea

He doesn’t look up from typing as he speaks, “Analysing The Art of War.” 

You shut your laptop, bent on distracting him, “The book?” 

He nods but doesn’t give a verbal response. 

“Who's that by?” You ask, fighting to suppress a grin

This time he does look up, glaring at you over his glasses, “Sun Tzu.” 

His tone is short, but it's amusing to annoy him so you grin, suppressing a giggle, “Sounds very interesting.” 

“What do you want?” He asks after a beat, still holding your gaze. 

You shrug, “Nothing. I’m bored,” 

The next time you study is even less productive, school work discarded on his floor in a matter of minutes. 

“We can’t be trusted to work together,” He tells you, watching as you calculate his astrological chart, geometry homework forgotten. 

You attend your first college party together in November. When you arrive at his dorm, he’s dressed much more casually than normal. 

You reach out to tug at the thin silver chain peeking out from his shirt collar, “This is fun,” You tease, giggling, “Aiming to impress tonight?”

He rolls his eyes in mock-offence, turning you around by the shoulders to shove you out of the doorframe. 

The lights in the house are dim, and they strobe slowly through different colours. It’s too dark and too bright all at once. The music is almost unbearably loud and people are packed in like sardines, it’s all incredibly overstimulating. 

When he senses your unease, Jace takes your hand, pulling you tight against your side to lead you through the throng of bodies. He’s looking for someone, but you’re unsure who, and he canvases the whole space before giving up on finding them.

The backyard of the house is quieter, but the ground still vibrates from the bass of the music. People are scattered about, smoking cigarettes and sipping from bottles of cheap beer. 

You both learn what Jell-O shots are, and make out in the bathroom back at his dorm. It’s not the first time you’d kissed each other, trying it a few times in your adolescence just to see what it was like. But this is different, tipsy and sloppy, as you giggle into his mouth. 

It's forgotten in the morning, when you wake up in his bed still dressed in your going-out clothes, head pounding.

But then it happens again, the week before finals.

You had stayed at the library far too late studying, leaving the pair of you to walk back to his dorm in the dark. It's positively frigid, cold December air whipping snow into your face. 

There are still snowflakes in your hair as you shed the thick coat you’re wearing, pulling off your gloves and hat. 

There's a bottle of wine in Jace’s freezer, left by Aegon the weekend before. It's expensive and rich and red, and Aegon would likely skin you if he found out you were drinking it — but, that's part of the fun. There's a baking show on the small television, and you’re curled into Jace’s side to steal some of the warmth from his body.

When the program lulls he brings his hand to your hair, combing through the tangled strands. You pay it little mind, leaning into his touch as you watch a contestant on-screen whip macaron batter. His fingers slide down to your jaw, turning your head so your eyes meet his. He’s studying your face, cheeks flushed from the wine or the cold. 

The attention is odd, and you giggle nervously under his gaze. His hands come to cradle your jaw as he leans towards you, nose brushing yours. The air is charged with an unusual tension, his mouth a breath away from yours. 

When he kisses you, he’s slow and gentle, his whole body angled into yours. Everything feels warm, a welcome contrast to the weather outside, and you chalk it up to the glasses of wine coursing through your bloodstream. 

It's pleasant, different from times past; this certainly doesn’t feel like an innocent, experimental kiss. It's heated, tinged with passion. He uses the placement of his hand to ease your jaw open, tongue sliding slowly into your mouth. 

There's a vibe, something you hadn’t felt before with him. It's communicated through the gentle touch of his hands, and how his breath hitches when you kiss him back with the same sort of force. 

The moment is broken by the announcement of a winner on the television. His hands slide down, resting on your shoulders, pulling your frame into his. 

You don’t talk about it afterwards. 

[calmparticles]

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[hers-underwraps]

࿐Thoughts on Octonauts main 6 duos .࿐

[NOTE: these are MY hc's/opinions -> please don't kill me]

[ANOTHER NOTE -> if any of these are similiar to yours or others hc's -> I PROMISE IT'S NOT INTENTIONAL (hey I guess great minds think alike) ]

ALSO THIS POST IS LONG - so be warned

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Barnacles and Kwazii

Both of them are theatre kids

They love listening to musical soundtracks

One of the few people on the crew that Barnacles is really comfortable with telling his feelings

Also vice Vera’s for Kwazii, he’s also one of the few people on the crew he’s comfortable with not being his usual bravado self around and sometimes he’ll talk about his family history

Sometimes when they both need to vent, Kwazii will come into Barnacle's room and they’ll just rant for hours

Also, they probably use that time to debrief about how the other are doing + do welfare checks on the team

I just love how they match each other's energy (they are such doofuses when it’s just the two)

Brawn’s and Brawn’s fr (like in the whale shark or giant squid episode)

Both of them had matching man ponytails at one point

They have matching tattoos

Thanks to Kwasi, Barnacles accidentally finds himself telling sea monster tails when he's around the cubs

Avid Hamilton enthusiasts (both know the soundtrack word for word)

I can imagine these two drunk at a bar doing karaoke

They both had a stand-up comedy phase

Own a set of brass knuckles

Shared poetry appreciation

Sometimes Kwazii is too gullible to the things he sees on the internet and Barnacles has to talk some sense into him

They would do stakeouts together

Sing in the shower

Baranacles would drop-kick Kwazii if necessary

I also just like how Kwazii is always looking out for Barnacles

Look they are just so healthy and I love em

Light sleepers

Best volleyball duo

The best savers on the crew (Barnacles because he's responsible however Kwazii is there by default because of his pirate instinct to stash away cash (he'd forget about it and then when they are doing their yearly finances he'd just find that he'd accumulated like $40,000 (maybe stolen) in cash so he'd automatically win)

They can both breakdance? (much to the crew's horror)

Chat they are THE duo

Like lowkey imagine if one of them died, imagine how distraught they'd be (I think about this all the time) -> Imagine how they'd fall apart (Actually they remind me a lot of Brokeback mountain) (The main reason I try not to ship them is because I think it would just fall apart lowkey ) (sorry for this but they were literally the first people I thought of when I watched the movie)

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Kwazii and Peso

Both of them love gory horror movies (peso likes to analyse them) (for medical reasons he swears)

Can both speak Spanish and will have conversations in front of the crew in it or when they want to make some outlandish comment

Kwazii and peso are like opposites attract fr fr

Kwazii spends a lot of time in Medbay, much to Peso's dismay.

Because of this, the peso has trained Kwazii in medbay, because he needs assistance sometimes (and lowkey wants him to take better care of himself)

Peso will sometimes crash out in Kwazii's room if he's too worried to sleep

They would invest in a pair of matching light-up sneakers

Thanks to Kwazii's stories, Peso automatically jumps to the conclusion that something is a monster when he's scared by some unknown creature

The black and orange combo is always lethal

Peso always tries to actively include Kwazii in his family cause he's got like none (he can be an honourary penguin)

These two would not be able to sit normally (Peso would do the leg bounces or sit criss-cross and Kwazii would do a little perch thing)

Sometimes Kwazii would find a creature he wanted to keep for a bit and Peso would help him hide it (partially because he doesn't want him to get into trouble and cause he's concerned that Kwazii would hurt it while he's hiding it) so there would be random animals chilling in the medbay until Barnacles would find it and have to guilt trip him (using shellington) to go put it back (They would both get punished with the shitty chores)

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Dashi and Shellington

OMG I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

Either OTP or BROTP for me personally

I WANT WHAT THEY HAVE

THAT SHOULD BE ME

So um anyways... malewife and girlboss fr

Collects hairclips he thinks Dashi would like when they're on land

Loves listening to his rambles

Shellington loves that she can out-yap him when it comes to metrology

They are literally the peak childhood interest like space kid + sea kid

I just want them to be happy and wish that nothing bad ever happened to them

Photographs/films sealife + tells her all about it

I can imagine them working on articles together

Also, imagine they had one of those Sealife documentary things where Dashi is the cameraman and Shillington just yaps on about stuff they find

They both go to climate change rallies together

Shellington sometimes takes photos of Dashi cause he feels bad that she is never in them (although they're not the best quality Dashi treasures them)

They are chill around each other, they can yap for hours or sit in silence but they will still be happy

Give off old married couple vibes

They have a Stardew Valley farm together -> They both love the mines and always forget to water their crops (so their solution is to grind out in the mines poor until they have enough resources to make sprinklers) (Shellington mines, Dashis kills everything)

Dashi orders for both of them at restaurants

Morning person + night owl -> Sometimes Dashi will wake up at like 5am and realise that Shellington is still up and be like dude wtf go to bed

They share a weird appreciation for sundials

attached do not separate

One time Shillington noticed that Dashi was down and he tried to make her a snack. He proceeded to set fire to the kitchen

They've gone stargazing together (Dashi loves telling him about the constellations)

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Peso and Tweak

This combo is lowkey kinda niche

Rarepair

They are so cute omg

I can imagine them playing video games together

They have matching oodies cause I said so

The two shortest out of the main six (THEY're SO SMALL GAHH)

Peso sometimes tries to help out Tweak in the launch bay (not that he can really do much) and lowkey admires Tweak's strength

He Apologises profusely every time they come back with a broken gup (he feels so bad) tweak finds it funny

They both like licorice

Most prone to panicking (our little overthinkers) (I mean I guess it's obvious for the peso, but tweak definitely worries a lot)

Tweak will hold peso's hand if he feels nervous

Tweak sometimes obtains some bad injuries for things going wrong with the gups and it lowkey scares the shit on of peso. Like she'll just rock up to the medbay filled with chunks of glass and burns and be like "So... um, can you fix me up?"

Goated at operation board game (peso for obvious reasons and tweak would just treat it like a gup (much to peso's horror))

They love the peanuts franchise

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Barnacles and Tweak

Like brother and sister imo

They are such old souls

They share a love for rugby

Very brother/sister vibes imo

They're been friends for yonks

Would be the only two to carry actual cash (Kwazii would too but it's a mix of currencies)

Probably the only crewmate that Barnacles has never been mad at (she can do no wrong)

They sometimes reminisce about the old octopod -> they are both still lowkey bad about crashing it

Both of them know Morse code (sometimes they send each other silly messages in it just cause

I feel like they'd both be kind've weird about their birthdays (not that keen on celebrating for some unknown reason)

They'd tackle or like punch each other's arm to show affection (I'd imagine that Tweak is the only person that Barnacles can do this to)

They'd both have a shared appreciation for "Dad music"

I also feel like they would be really good at hockey (Tweak grass hockey (regular) and barnacles ice hockey)

Avid beanie hat enjoyers

They'd be really good at card games (like 500 or hearts)

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Peso and Shellington

OMG IT'S THE NERD BOYS

They study together

Shellington accidentally burns himself in the lab all the time, much to Peso's dismay. (he just wishes his crew would take better care of themselves)

They lowkey get the shits with each other sometimes (Like peso lowkey thinks shellington is a little bitch sometimes )

Sometimes heated debates just for the sake of it

They have number headcanons because they spent so much time doing math for their degrees

They also have favourite formulas

Have mixed feelings about organic chemistry

They could poison you in your sleep bfr

These too would be goated at an arcade

They'd fw the Sonic movies

Have the best book taste

They both have the most depressing music taste (they'll be listening to like the front bottoms or mitski or some shit for fun)

Shellington has zero spacial awareness so he's always getting injured

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Dashi and Tweak

IT'S THE GIRLS

BESTIES LOVERS OML

WOMEN IN STEM

I have an idea for an AU when these two just live out in the middle of the desert and they just build machines and blow shit up all the time maybe sell nifty weapons when they need a stash

They are super close as they are the only girls on the team

BUILD GADGETS AND GIZMOS TOGETHER

Dashi would let Tweak dye her hair sometimes - she would have two pink money pieces or pink skunk hair imo

You know their Minecraft worlds would go hard

Tweak admires her coding ability + Dashi admires her building skills

Early bird + night owl -> When Dashi realises Tweak hasn't slept in a day or two, she'll make her a hot chocolate drag her to her bed and just sit on the floor until she falls asleep

Dashi spends a lot of time with Tweak, so she's gotten a good grasp on the gups and does the daily maintenance jobs with Barnacles if Tweak has crashed out

They both enjoy Lego but the technic kind. Especially tweak, I just know my girl has the full-on Lego trainset

Dashi gets nervous about the impression she makes on Ranger Marsh (she felt super guilty when she crashed the octo-ray and made Ranger Marsh worry about tweak)

They are literally lalalala and okokokok

Sometimes Dashi gets too carried away with something she finds interesting and tweaks gotta be like c'mon girl be careful

Tweak would actually die for Dashi (and vice versa)

Dashi would buy strawberry cups and Tweak would be like huh (Nana reference?)

They would avidly use fairy comments (both irl and online)

They would be the ones doing the crew haircuts

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Barnacles and Peso

Father and son fr

god I love them

Every time Peso goes missing Barnacles has a heart attack (not that he wouldn't for the others but Peso specifically he's like GOD FUCK WHERE IS HE)

Both are major family guys, and love showing each other family photos and albums

Sometimes they jam out together

They both love Mitski

Love the cold weather -> will kill for a good snow day (much to the crew's dismay)

They die in the heat

Share a mutual love of sweet treats

Peso was wary of Barnacles at first but soon came to just admire/respect him

Both would cry during sad movies

Also both fw soap operas

Peso used to be afraid of the captain when they first met

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Shellington and Barnacles

Fathers TM

Guys, you don't understand how much I adore their friendship

But yes, they would bond over their shared fatherly struggles

Sometimes Barnacles wouldn't be able to sleep at night so he would just chill in Shellington's lab (Because he up until the ungodly hours) and he would just chill there. They wouldn't say too much, sometimes Shillington would talk about the research he was doing but he kind've understood that Barnacles just didn't want to be alone so he didn't pressure him to talk.

They both have the blandest taste out of everyone on the crew

Probably both think that salt is spicy

I feel like Barnacles neutralises some of Shellington's silliness so they are both just chill

They both have the goofiest pj's (canon)

Tallest members of the crew (you could literally climb them)

They both love info-dumping to each other - They'll take turns being listeners/yapper

They both share an insane love of Lego more-so the aesthetic models (Barnacles cause he likes to build ship models and Shellington well... he seems like the type)

They definitely thoroughly enjoyed the lego masters series

Honestly they both different flavours of tism for me personally

They share so many similarities that it's kind've scary -> like they are different genres of each other in a way that is crazy

Wait no I'm not crazy here me out -> They're both the omg I'm only good at one thing (they have a little bit of a complex about it), I need to be a good father (lowkey to compensate for this), have some trauma that holds me back a lil and also really goofy + super tall.

I personally think that's one of the reasons these two work together so well -> guys we need to talk about this more

They forced the whole crew (well mainly Barnacles) to do the 16 personalities quiz (I hc that Barnacles is REALLY into psychology and info-dumped about it so much to Shellington that he's lowkey invested)

After that, they made a chart for the combability of everyone on the crew

I'm not normal about the parallels these two share LIKE AHHHHH

Anyways -> they both have shitty eyesight (they both wear contacts most of the time but sometimes wear glasses)

Tell really corny dad jokes

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Kwazii and Tweak

Chaotic duo if ever

Kwazii sows bandanas for tweak

Tweak lowkey wants him dead for all the damage he's done

Has a chalkboard with a tally of who's done the most damage (Kwazii is 1st with Shellington following closely behind)

Tweak has taught Kwazii how to fix up the GUP-B himself because she's so sick of doing it (the best investment she's ever made)

They both love destroy boys (I know I've said this before but I'm going to say it again)

They both hand out the most insane disses (when necessary)

Play Clash Royale (and they're sweats)

Can't spell to save their lives

They would go on all the crazy rollercoasters at a theme park

Speaking of rollercoasters -> these two would definitely dig those videos of the top 10 craziest rollercoasters/waterslides (but tweak tell you if it was actually possible) (or better yet how SHE could make it possible)

Both share a weird appreciation for chainsaws

They'd road rage so bad

They're so evil together and I love it

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Peso and Dashi

Sweethearts

Both are Kpop stans

They have weekly meetings to discuss the latest drama happening

They share an insanely popular fan account

They also both have matching photo cards

These two are definitely are the younger end of the crew (AND I AM NOT SAYING THAT THEY ARE LIKE 16. I THINK EVERYONE ON THE MAIN OCTONAUTS CREW IS AT LEAST 25+ AT THE MINIMUM)

They'll use modern slang just for the shits and gigs (they've definitely called Barnacles Sigma and Skibidi a few times just to piss him off)

They both play animal crossing but they are both SUPER competitive about it --> They are also RIGHT into the turnip stock market ( For some reason barnacles always has god-tier prices)

They make friendship bracelets together

When they are both feeling devious, they'll introduce the captain to some brain rot term and watch the rest of the crew go insane as he tries to incorporate it into his everyday lingo -> "Good work shellington, very Sigma" "Nice GUP upgrades Tweak, mogging the old designs" "Kwazi Istg don't be an omega and listen to me" -> They are not amused and want them dead (Barnacles just wants to be woke)

Dashi gets along surprisingly well with Peso's family

They would both have those little virtual electronic pet things (I forgot what they are called like the tamigoochee type shit) (if they were out on overnight missions, they'd give it to the other to take care of

They have really good eyesight

Have really nice scented shampoo

They both watched those really fucked up youtube videos as kids (like the Gacha or mlp horror types)

goated at origami

They'd be Hayday sweats

The mum friend

They'd do the daily wordles and connections together (but they;r also be lowkey competitive about it)

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Dashi and Kwazii

Chaos duo 2.0

Super energetic

They both love doing sports together - they both seem really athletic so I reckon they play each other often

Both are super competitive

These two both alternate being acting captain when Barnacles is not there and they bond over that

Both love spicy foods

I have this one really specific headcannon that they have cook-offs sometimes because hey why not and they divide into two teams: Dashi + Kwazii and Barnacles + Peso. (I feel like shellington is banned from the kitchen and Tweak well she cooks in the garage ifkwim, so they judge ).

These cookoffs would get HEATED, I reckon it's gotten to the point where they have thrown knives. But yeah Dashi and Kwazii are a killer combo in the kitchen

They both love fashion -> they also play dress to impress together (they'll roast all the other players and Kwazii usually wins)

Only person Kwazii can find that is willing to sword fight him (and doesn't instantly lose)

Dashi sometimes uses him as a model when she wants to practice portrait shots (he's probably the only one who's willing to tbh)

When they're around each other they often get tunnel vision which can get them in a little trouble (like in the Siphomphore episode) but it's ok, they love a little adrenaline rush

LOVE hotter weather --> they both love a good beach day

Dashi's still trying to teach Kwazii how to surf (he's getting the hang of it though)

Kwazii braids Dashi's hair (and vice versa)

They both love mean girls (they want to be Regina SO BAD)

Both love gold jewellery

Are both into star signs, planetary alignment, fate etc.

These two are probably the most spiritual in the crew.

I feel like these two actually wouldn't be too made if there was a zombie apocalypse

Violence is always an option

When they are bored they start placing stupid bets on each other and they will go to extreme lengths not to lose the bet

Dashi finds his fear of spiders amusing (like she's canonically Australian so she's immune to them)

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Tweak and Shellington

underrated

Both are masters of their world and they respect each other for that

Nightowls -> Their sleep schedule is unholy

Will both go days without sleeping (this terrifies the rest of the crew)

They often need to be put to bed by other crew members cause they'll just be passed out somewhere

I can imagine them building bombs together

Both of them are AVID glass animal fans

They both use really shitty shampoos like head and shoulder type shit

Love Monster energy drinks and coffee a little too much

They also forget to eat too often (Honestly these two are just too obsessed with their professions and have horrendous self care)

They spend a lot of time together cause they are often stuck in the pod

Tweak tried to have some plants in her room but kept on forgetting to water them so they kept on dying. Shellington noticed and gave her some more, and made sure to maintain their health

Tweak secretly prays that shellington will become a better driver whenever she sees him around a gup (not that she's religious, it's just going to take a divine miracle to happen)

During beach days these two would just mess around with a metal detector (That's if shellington isn't messing with the rockpools)

They had adult braces

They sleep-talk a lot

They'd both own trapper hats

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Barnacles and Dashi

leaders tm

These two have lowkey been parenting the crew since day dot

It's giving old man + the girl he decided to adopt

Both are barbs (Nicki Minaj fans) and listen to her together when the crew is out on missions

Dashi was lowkey like his apprentice in leadership during the main Octonauts series. They've spent a lot of time together

They spend a lot of time in HQ and unfortunately, they have to spend a lot of time doing boring paperwork and formalities/incident type of reports. I can imagine them just working on it late at night as boring and soul-destroying as it is cause nobody else is willing (or is serious) enough to do it.

Specifically, AnB, Dashi would definitely feel a huge amount of imposter syndrome in her role, and sometimes Barnacles would see that and just reassure her that she has done the training for this, she does deserve it and that it'll be alright.

Dashi adopted his mannerisms over time, like specifically the little stances. I've noticed she does the little hands-on-hip stance that Barnacles always does in AnB ( I just thought it was kinda cute)

Likewise, I reckon Barnacles adopted some of hers.

Another AnB one, sometimes Dashi would be debriefing about everything that's been happening to get and the stress surrounding her leadership position and barnacles would just be like "Yeah, I get it"

Both of them have matching Sanrio charms (Dashi gave one to him when he started mentoring her)

Would both die for their crew

Sometimes, they do improv practice together

Both are morning people. It'll be like 5am and they're like RISE AND GRIND!!! CEASE THE DAY!!

Really good at celestial navigation (Barnacles cause of scouts/dashi cause of metrology)

They are both heavy snackers (they love having a little munch when they are doing things)

Best huggers

Dashi canonically collects sunglasses so -> sometimes barancles borrows sunglasses for missions (which is amusing cause sometimes she gives him a really silly pair)

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Kwazii and Shellington

SILLY AF

This friendship is actually so funny to me. Because I remember Kwazii HATING shellington at the start of the series. Specifically in that episode when they both go driving at night (I think?) and Kwazii's just like ugh ho why are you coming like you can barely drive GET OUT. Now Kwazii's out there like "OMG COOL CREATURE SHELLINGTON HOLY SHIT DUDE YOU'D LOVE THIS"

They are lowkey both Batshit crazy when left to their own devices

Would both find each other trinkets that they think are neat

Both of them share a love of learning new languages

Share a surprisingly large amount of info about Greek mythology

The Mayan calendar freaks them out (they take it WAY too seriously)

They both have zero spacial awareness

Sometimes Kwazii tries to act like a smartass around shellington (shellington quickly humbles him)

They would both intentionally eat chocolate bars in the most fucked up way possible

They would both own the most absurd pets

Shellington would casually mention something he's always wanted to see (like a plant or fish) and Kwazii would go out and retrieve it (which is fitting cause it's very catlike). It would probably be the wrong thing most of the time but Shellington doesn't tell him

Granny games would scare the shit out of them

They would've both set stuff on fire during science classes (intentionally (out of boredom) and accidentally)

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Thanks for reading all that

I've never done this big of a post so I hope it was alright :)

(And that there weren't too many spelling errors)

[wanderingblindly]

i think a lot of rpf writing woes would be alleviated if we were brave enough to make everyone suffer from premature ejaculation

[yesthe-artblog]

Lorgar (from a permanently unfinished wip)

[generic-sonic-fan]

Hi!

When I read your fics I was amazed how you write team dark and their dynamic. I was wondering, since I would like to write about them as well, but am struggling with really getting them to feel like actual people.

Do you have any tricks or things you keep in mind when writing Omega? And on top of that, what do you keep in mind when writing Rouge or Shadow? How do you make these three fit so well? Like three puzzle pieces that kind of have the right shape but still don’t quite align.

I’m sorry if this is a big ask, I’m just quite curious, you have written them so well in Mirror Verse and other one shots like CTRL + ALT + DELETE. Can’t help but ask for the secrets of the master :)

I am so honored by this question and you've also activated my trap card. I LOVE talking about how I see these guys and the vibes I keep in mind for each of them while writing.

The TL;DR:

Team Dark are a group of three mutually beneficial friends who regard each other as equals, even if they occasionally disagree/fight. In my opinion, if this is missing, you're no longer writing Team Dark, but "Rouge and her two dogs" or "IDW Shadow and his no good very bad mandates" or whatever. This is my most controversial opinion.

For Omega, he's the boisterous rebel of the group. He helps keep their momentum going at all times, and tends to be a driving force in conversations and the instigator of new actions.

For Shadow, he's the serious anchor of the team. He helps keep Team Dark together, tending to be the one most willing to let his true emotions show, whether that be his attachment to them or his real opinions on a situation.

For Rouge, she's the charismatic tactician of the team. She helps point Team Dark in a direction, tending to outline the circumstances and situations they find themselves in to help the other two understand better.

To use tropes, they're all Lancers for each other. Ideally, each one of them can be compared and contrasted against each other- not just Shadow and Rouge vs Omega or Shadow and Omega vs Rouge.

To move onto individual breakdowns of how I see each of them and how they fit together- LONG post beneath the cut! You have been warned! Oh, and the actual writing advice is at the bottom because I got carried away, oops.

Omega:

The basis-

The very core of my writing for Omega comes down to three points, which I will reiterate here for convenience. Omega:

Hates Eggman

Will do ANYTHING to avoid being ignored and overlooked again

uses the first point to cover up the second point and would sooner deactivate than admit it

This is, in my humble opinion, what motivates Omega in almost everything he does. He's loud and boisterous. Why? Because he hates being silenced! He's violent and dangerous. Why? Because the idea of being (and being seen) as powerless makes him furious.

Omega's greatest desires, outwardly manifested by his drive to kill his creator, are about choice and freedom for himself. If he wants to do something, he does it. Flat out. Or in the very rare cases of his restraint, he will make it explicitly clear that he is choosing not to for a reason that still benefits him in the long run. This robot has a pathological need for control over his life, and god help anyone who dares threaten that.

That control includes control over his image- he's a deeply prideful individual. Getting him to admit a mistake is like pulling (metaphorical) teeth. Shadow and Rouge are more likely to apologize than he ever will be. He can't stand being perceived as weak, inconsistent, or incompetent.

He's much more of a liar than Shadow ever could be. I've heard the phrase "still waters run deep", and I think that describes Omega perfectly. Like all the other members of Team Dark, he is extremely guarded with his more vulnerable emotions. Whereas Rouge's cover emotion is a flirty suaveness, and Shadow's cover emotion is aloof determination, Omega's cover emotion is a sort of joyous rage. He wants to be seen either as A. Angry or B. Having the time of his life. Good luck getting him to express anything else. (Even in front of Shadow and Rouge!)

But the important part is that he does feel the full range of emotions. And he accepts that he feels all those things, even if you couldn't get him to confess it out loud. I myself tend to accidentally write Omega as more philosophical than I think he needs to be, but that doesn't negate the fact that he does care about things that he pretends not to! How people treat him vs how they treat his organic teammates, his role as the (not quite) only friendly robot in his universe, so on. He has a curiosity about the world around him that someone who was isolated from it might have. And yes, there's actual canon evidence for this now- he spends all of Shadow's campaign in Sonic x Shadow generations making remarks and generating conclusions about the world around him, not just about Eggman robots.

Omega has such a zeal for life that he's not himself without it. He cares. He cares. He cares. Make him have strong opinions on everything.

Fitting into Team Dark:

Omega fits into Team Dark as their catalyst. The definition of "catalyst" is "a substance that increases the rate of a chemical reaction without itself undergoing any permanent chemical change".

Omega is the one always spurring Shadow and Rouge into motion, and he's the one that forces them into conflict- not against each other, but against the world, and their preconceptions of just about everything. He's the one asking "WHY NOT?" whenever they say they can't do something, "WHO CARES?" whenever they worry too much about anything. He's got too much drive to ever sit idly by, and being friends with him requires at least some level of reciprocation of that energy.

The biggest way Omega shows that he cares is simply by his presence. Shadow and Rouge understand that if Omega did not want to be here, he wouldn't be. Tolerating their own problems and eccentricities is their biggest ask from him. Given that "their problems" usually tend to be far outside his skill range, he's always a bit unsure of how to solve them. And of course, as we covered previously, he hates feeling or seeming unsure.

. . . but he does want to solve them. Because he cares.

He's the most classically tsundere out of all of them. It took him the longest out of all of them to figure out that he did genuinely care about them, but now that he does. . . he's not quite sure how to navigate it? Relationships are still new to him, give him time. The line where "WANTING TO MAINTAIN TEAMMATE EFFECTIVENESS" separates from "SEEING MY TEAMMATE IN DISTRESS MAKES ME DISTRESSED" is really fuzzy for him.

So he tries. He's one to face their problems like he does every other problem- head on. It's moments like this where his own clarity and certainty of character can cut through the fog of a problem that the other two are overcomplicating.

---

He's most similar to Shadow in their shared bluntness and need to feel like they're accomplishing their goals. They're both impulsive. They're both guys who ask "well why don't we just do X" and then they go run off to do X, even if it's already been tried and found to not work by someone before them. They share a mistrust of the competency of others.

He's most unlike Shadow in the fact that Shadow masks, heavily, while he does not. Shadow keeps quiet and tries to blend in with "normal" people. Omega does not, from his appearance to the way he acts. He embraces his differences while Shadow struggles with them. Omega is much more certain in his identity than Shadow will ever be.

---

He's most similar to Rouge in their shared nonchalance for consequences. Rouge is barely, barely governed by the idea that it would be harder to do what she wants if the cops are after her. Omega has come to agree with this philosophy. I've always headcanoned them as being far more morally questionable than Shadow would ever let himself be. They're also both go-getters. When they see something they want, they get it, even if the methods they employ to do so differ.

He's most unlike Rouge in that Rouge loves to play the "game" of society. She gets joy out of playing the fool sometimes and allowing people to underestimate her, something Omega would never tolerate even if he did see the value of such a play. This extends to her proclivity for stealth and anonymity- she doesn't mind having the last laugh over someone in private, whereas for Omega, what's the point if nobody knows that you won?

Shadow:

The basis:

Shadow is a character that I have the most difficulty describing how I write. Probably because, for fuck's sake, he's Shadow the Hedgehog. Everybody knows Shadow. Everybody writes about Shadow. And everybody writes about Shadow differently yet they all feel like the same guy. He is "all of him", and in a manner almost similar to Metal Sonic, there's so many different ways you can portray him yet still have it feel right.

Here is just about the only post I've made about how I write Shadow. It's a bit rambly, but I still stand by it. My favorite paragraph from it is probably this one-

At his best, Shadow is thoughtful, neutral, and surprisingly level-headed. Impulse only gets the best of him when he perceives himself as being the only one who can act competently- if a situation "needs" an Ultimate Lifeform, he's the first to run in and try to solve it. Otherwise, he's much more methodical than the likes of Sonic, Amy, Omega, etc. He values efficiency over fun or flashiness. He's not very good at putting himself in other people's shoes, but if you want an objective opinion on a situation at hand he's one of your best bets to ask.

For me, Shadow is someone who values being stoic and being there for the people who need him. One of his innate desires, one that he consistently struggles with, is to be the perfect tool for the people he cares about. He wants to solve their problems. Ease their pain. Fulfill their wishes about the world. I always thought that his very first line in SA2 to Eggman, about "granting his wish" was very resonant to him both pre- and post-Maria.

Shadow knows that he has the tendency to follow the directions of others, and it's something he fights within himself. He pushes himself to be independent to the point of overcorrecting and putting everyone off. He also has a tendency to form attachments, deeply, and this too is something that he tries to suppress and avoid showing (for Maria-related reasons).

Ultimately, Shadow is the most honest character of Team Dark. His struggles with who he is and his own mental health are too big for him to fight alone- as a result, he's forced to share them. He tries so hard to deny parts of him to himself that he ends up spilling everything everywhere. Shadow tries, and does a decent job in front of strangers, but among friends he just can't hide. He is all of him.

(This ironically results in him being the 'token mentally ill one' of Team Dark when I write him, lol! He's the one who's had to put the work in because of his PTSD, and it shows! He's got more emotional maturity than either Omega or Rouge because he's had to develop it to keep moving forward with his life.)

Fitting into Team Dark:

Shadow is the anchor of Team Dark. He helps ground Omega and Rouge to the world. He's by far the most philosophical and spiritual of the three- he's the only one thinking about stuff like his purpose, his future, his role in life, what he's meant to be, etc. He's a thinker, and sometimes Omega and Rouge need that sort of anchor to the bigger picture to stay themselves.

He is honest and he is earnest. He says what he means, and means what he says. He provides the best evaluations of the current situation. He's almost like the "canary in the coal mine"- if something is going wrong, if the Team or anybody in it starts to lose their way, Shadow is the first to speak up.

He might not be the one to start the conversation, but he is the first one to really talk, and this helps the others open up. The most important thing is that he doesn't even realize he's doing it. He's not self-aware enough to be a facilitator or mediator in any capacity, but he is the stabilizer of the three regardless.

. . . which some might call ironic, given the fact that it's Rouge and Omega helping him stay level when it comes to his erratic mental health. He does lean on them when he gets triggered. He needs to. And sometimes he needs someone to talk him out of his own spiral when he thinks too much. Omega and Rouge help him to unwind from the tight little knots he binds himself in trying to sort out himself.

Saying that Shadow cares about them is like saying that Shadow cares about breathing. It's effortless. Natural. He couldn't stop caring about them now if he tried. It's just the way he's wired. The biggest way that he shows this is by doing things for them and worrying about them. Both in silence, of course.

---

He's most similar to Omega in his potential for ruthlessness and a stubbornness when they've made up their minds. They also relate through their shared otherness to the majority, being manufactured beings who have difficulty discerning the intentions and reasoning of others.

He's most unlike Omega in that he has a firm moral compass and a deep consideration for what is "intended" for him. Furthermore, conflict isn't something Shadow enjoys. Destruction? Sure. Conflict? Not really, so he avoids it for things he doesn't deem important. Omega finds disagreements refreshing, whereas for Shadow they make him feel trapped.

---

He's most similar to Rouge in that they both don't mind slowing down. They both take pleasure in the little things in life, from soft blankets to good fur care products and the like. Though Shadow is more duty-driven than her, they prefer having lives outside of their work. They both need to have periods alone to gather themselves again.

He's most unlike Rouge in that he's selfless while she's selfish. It's not even just that he's got a more heroic moral compass than her- he just fundamentally values other things more highly than he does himself. Of the entire team he's the most likely to step up to "do what's required" or "do what's right". Oh, and he's self-sacrificial to a fault, something Rouge just can't fathom.

Rouge:

Rouge is the hardest for me to write because she's the opposite of Omega in a lot of ways.

This is a bat who puts on a front for everything.

Including in her own narration.

I think my strongest POV character work for her that shows this is chapters 2 and 6 of my 2024 Team Dark Week one-shots. Both of which allude to things about her that she won't even tell the audience, as well as plenty of emotions that she kicks down so that nobody sees them.

Whereas Omega desires physical control, Rouge desires control over information. She's a string-puller, a manipulator, a planner. She's the ultimate tactician, and she will do everything in her power to ensure that she ends up on top and her enemies end up on the bottom, crushed by her own heel if she's lucky, but she'll also settle for their destruction by anyone or anything else.

She's invested most heavily into her social skillset. She always knows the right thing to say. Conversations are if-then equations for her; if she says this, then the other person will feel that. She uses this on enemies and friends alike, and furthermore, regardless of what she might actually want to say or do in the moment.

A friend might be sad, and if she needs them to be happy, she'll console them, even if she would rather grab their shoulders and scream her frustration at them. An enemy might ask her to do something that she hates, but if it means accomplishing her goals, she'll shove that down and do it with a smile. She's flexible, adaptable, mutable, and she can track her status with each individual with ease. . .

. . . except with herself. Not to say that she isn't incredibly prideful, and that she won't stick up for herself, but sometimes the gap between what she needs to be to get the result she wants and what she's actually feeling in the moment can grow so large she disconnects them entirely. She won't just hide her emotions- she will feel ashamed of them and try to force herself not to feel them.

She's the most 'herself' when she's 'off shift', so to speak. She relaxes significantly when she's alone or with the two people on this planet that she trusts enough to do so. She actually becomes less opinionated when she's at her most casual. She can get catty or annoyed by things in this state but she much more go-with-the-flow. While she gets the most pleasure from intensive gem heists, it doesn't take much to just make her happy. A good TV show? She's happy. A fun chat with a friend? She's happy. Painted nails and a good outfit? Happy.

The catch is having the stability to stay that way, hence the impressive tangle of machinations she concocts to keep her little corner of the world totally within her control.

Fitting into Team Dark:

Most people probably were surprised by my previous section stating that Shadow was the emotional anchor of the team. Most people see Rouge that way- and that's a valid interpretation, but I prefer a different take.

Rouge is the team leader. Period. I stand by the majority of this post I made about Rouge's dynamic as the team leader. The TL;DR is that she's the planner and tactician, the expert at cognitively thinking through the best way to aim the two living weapons at her disposal. This also, however, comes with resolving the differences between them when things get heated.

She often finds herself as the one resolving conflict, not because she's the "mom friend", but that she needs these two to get along (and some external parties to get along with them!) or else a lot of her plans could fall apart, and she cannot have that. Being a part of Team Dark is one hell of a vulnerable position for her, and there's some days where she wonders if it's worth it. Being dependent on others like this freaks her out in a way that Shadow and Omega can't conceptualize.

She's always had a soft spot for Shadow and Omega given the circumstances. That much is true. But I think it's only a significant ways into her friendship with them that she resolves to stick by Shadow and Omega's sides should the world turn against them. Choosing to have someone's back instead of distancing herself the moment things become dicey is a huge sign that she genuinely cares. I believe her confession in Sonic 06, and again in SxS Gens, to be the most honest and heartfelt she's ever going to be with them. Shadow and Omega might not understand the full depth of what those moments meant for her.

---

She's most similar to Shadow in that they're both pretty grounded. A lot of the basic assumptions they make about the world and scripts for how to behave are similar between them. They feel their emotions similarly and in response to similar situations, even if Rouge tends to hide them better. They're both just. . . pretty relaxed people outside of extraordinary circumstances. Not to say they don't have moments where they get passionate and excited on their own though.

She's most unlike Shadow in that she doesn't think anything is wrong with her. For all her knowledge on people and emotions and conversation, she doesn't understand that the way she operates is pretty mentally ill, folks! She thinks that she doesn't have any trauma, anything to cry about or angst over, and nothing is further than the truth. Her struggles were 'ordinary', distant from alien bioweapons or growing up on a space station or being freshly created then locked in a basement forever. But they were still struggles, struggles that shape how she sees the world and not in a good way.

---

She's the most similar to Omega in their shared pathological need for control, lol. They're both control freaks, even if said control freaking can occur in opposite directions from each other. It's where they chafe the most and it's because they're so similar. They're also both prideful and care deeply about keeping their reputations consistent. They're both liars in contrast to Shadow's honesty.

She's the most unlike Omega in that she's willing to mute herself to get what she wants. Sometimes she wishes she could scream "why can't you just pretend to be normal?!?!?!" at him when he's stirring up trouble and forcing her to alter her plans. She's calculated. He's rash. Fundamental mismatch of vibes sometimes.

Conclusion

It's been so fun to type out the culmination of almost my two years writing for these characters and how they weave in and out of each other.

In a not-at-all-concise way, I've tried to describe how they fit together and how they all have different sides to them.

I think the most important thing I've practiced to make them feel "real" when you're writing them is to hint, but not outright state, that there's something they're not saying that differs or is deeper than their surface-level conversation. For example, Rouge would never ever EVER say "I'm manipulating people to protect myself." Omega would never ever ever say "I care but I have no idea how to show it." Shadow could maybe possibly say "I'm trying to find myself and resist being the obedient tool I was made to be," but holy shit is he going to have to be going through it to even consider saying that.

You have to hint at it. Dance around the topic. Delight in withholding the information from the readers. Have Rouge sweet-talk someone to do something only for her smile to fade into something anxious and tired the moment their back is turned. Have Omega shoplift something small for Rouge from the supermarket and have him questioning the entire time whether it was even worth the effort, only to be relieved when Rouge squeals in delight. Have Shadow give an abrupt "no" to a seemingly benign request for a favor from Rouge and write him clamming up about why he did so afterwards.

It's blending these deeper facets of their characters into their current dialogue and actions that's my favorite thing to do in my writing. Even better if an outside character witnesses that little glimpse of the interior world and goes "huh, I wasn't expecting that."

Oh, and all the above paragraphs I've typed in this post to perfectly describe each character? Remember that they don't know all that about themselves.

They might be just as surprised as the outside characters are about how they've acted. They might not realize that something was bothering them, or that there was something they feel strongly about, until it surfaces unexpectedly! This can result in fights, or big dramatic moments.

All of THAT dives into the whole "avoiding therapy-speak" discussion currently happening in the greater writing community, one that would require me to write an entirely different post to explain. Here's my favorite primer on the subject if you'd like, but this post is already long enough, so I'll leave off here.

Thank you so much for this ask. You gave my autistic ass the best evening of my life typing this all out.

[sumer-is-icumen-in]

blanket burrito achilles they could never make me hate you <3

[lumiosemuseum]

A Little Closer

Summary: Two old friends catch up for the first time in ages. Notes: It's finally done... my first ever finished AZnerine fic ... I didn't do any major edits, so please be nice if it's a little rough 🙇🏾‍♀️

Titled after this song by ZABADAK, fittingly from their album Blizzard Music

[ alternate link ] [ neocities link tba ]

The outskirts of Snowbelle city were mostly thick forest, but there was one small area near its cliffs where its trees grew sparse. Being so out of the way it was mostly untouched, and perpetually quiet except for the sounds of Noctowls crying into the night.

Some remnants of  larger, older trees remained. Wide stumps existed as evidence that there must have been a sawmill nearby at some point in the town’s history. Others were damaged by natural causes; AZ massaged his weak knee, sat upon a fallen tree whose body bore the scars of lightning. The last time he visited this particular part of Snowbelle, his heart was heavy with a grudge.  That turbulent past seemed so distant now. Life had become busy for him. Busy, but very fun: his younger brother dragging him to-and-fro, the fact that he’d become something of an historical advisor to one of his nephews, and Floette returning to him… it was strange and exciting to exist in the world again, but in all that excitement he’d nearly forgotten the simple joy of peace and quiet.

More recently, he had begun to aid in the reconstruction of Geosenge Town; the turbulence that left it half-destroyed still bore its marks upon the land, yet everyday it grew a little more. Perhaps a day would return where it was lush and bountiful the same way it was in the distant past. The memory of his most recent visit still lingered in his mind. The fact that he’d seen something— someone important to him, and he could not tolerate to look at her for more than a second. As hard as he tried not to linger on his own short-comings, it became difficult when it came to her. Perhaps, in the future, he could…

While he sat in quiet contemplation, a familiar blue speck appeared in the skies above. When a small black petal fell on his nose, he sneezed, and in response he heard laughter. Floette floated down before his face, and instinctively his hand rose to hold her, pulling her to his cheek in a hug.

“Floette… I was wondering where you went.” He could feel a smile tugging at his lips as she hugged him back in what small way she could.  Floette had grown independent enough that on occasion she would leave without saying anything, but AZ always rested easily. These days, he was confident that she would always return.

She grinned, and AZ recognized it as the look she would  give him whenever she’d done something naughty. Despite being barely younger than himself, she was an expert when it came to causing mischief. He could appreciate this about her… most of the time.

“...Should I be concerned?” he asked, but only received a giggle in response.

Floette gave him a gesture: You’ve got this! Good luck!

“Ah— what are you referring to? What is it that I need luck with?”

Floette, ignoring his clear confusion, flew above his head and was soon out of sight again. It was just then that he heard a familiar voice, accompanied by the crunch that comes with footsteps falling in snow. “I don’t see her anymore… do you think she went this way? Or…”

A chill ran through his body as he scrambled to stand. Why would Floette bring her here? Have I not suffered enough? In his hurry to flee from the scene, AZ stumbled over himself, which resulted in him falling backwards quite inelegantly, his fall only cushioned by the frost below. 

“Aries, do you think we should…?”

It was too late to escape now. The woman he’d been dreading an encounter with stood before him. Her expression of shock quickly transformed into annoyance, then a scowl. The oversized Corviknight that stood beside her made a noise of complaint, but did not put up a fight when Nerine recalled it into its ball. 

AZ’s body tensed; there was something about Nerine that always made a nervousness arise within him. He recognized it as a vague feeling of want, though he could not put a name to his desire. He gazed over here. Her toned-down clothing indicated she’d just gotten off of work, though he still saw flares of her personal style in her rhinestone frames and rose-lace leggings. 

“...Nerine.”  AZ attempted to regather himself. He nearly sat up, then felt an ache in his back that led to him giving up that endeavour.

“Aza.”

She continued forward, towards him. Her long curls fell over her shoulders as she looked down where he laid in the snow. The moon loomed behind her head, framing her in its gentle glow. If not for the slight ache growing in his body, he would’ve thought he were dreaming.

“...Do you need help?” her voice was tinged with a slight irritation, as if she’d repeated herself many times by then, only to remain unheard.

“N…no.” AZ blinked slowly. “I enjoy it here. It is wonderful to be cold.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” Nerine sighed, “Give me your hands.”

Nerine stepped over one of his long legs so she was standing in front of him. She reached for him, and AZ did the same in turn. With a great effort, she stepped backwards in an attempt to help him up.

“You’ve gotten skinnier since I last saw you. How are you still so heavy?”

“I apologize…” 

“No need for that. I just think you should take better care of yourself— eep!”

Though AZ was now sitting up, Nerine stumbled against him. Her hands gripped his shoulders to balance herself, and for a brief moment their eyes met. Her glasses are crooked, he noted. When he reached to adjust them, she let out a soft gasp. For a moment she grew timid, turning her eyes towards nothing in particular. Her hands grew tight upon his shoulders, before relaxing. 

“...Now that that’s finished,” Nerine’s voice wavered. “I should really be on my way, don’t you think?” She stood up straight, and AZ, with all the speed he could muster, reached forward to grasp one of her hands. Her brows knit as a slight frown formed upon her face, but she did not seem anxious. “Nerne, wait,” he was shocked by the desperation that arose within his voice. “I ask for only a moment of your time. Please.” He released her hand as he stood, praying she would not take the opportunity to run off. When he settled himself back onto the fallen tree he was seated on before, he gestured to the empty space next to him; an invitation. She hummed suspiciously, her eyes narrowing at him… yet she chose to sit down next to him all the same.

“You look, erm… well.” AZ mumbled. His sentences were stilted, frozen much like the cold air.  “You are very beautiful… ahem. Your kindness to me is a blessing.” 

No, that’s not quite right. “I want to…” he began, but paused. He attempted the word again, want, and struggled to properly shape it. For him, desire and guilt were one and the same, the two emotions tangled together in an unbreakable knot. He could not imagine wanting without shame.

“Nerine,” he began again, “I wish to speak to you.”

“You’re speaking to me right now, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he conceded, “I am. And I do not wish to waste your time with frivolous matters. It is simply that… erm.”

He thought of their previous encounter, and how he ran from her before she could speak. He imagined himself saying Take this back. I want it no more than you do, but when he saw her in person, he found he missed the visual of it hanging from the pearls of her necklace; the butterfly key he had given her long ago. He began to reach for this key that now sat in his pocket; the entire reason why Fleotte brought them together, he concluded, was so he could finally return it to her. As he attempted to grab it, he thought of the circumstances in which he gave her the key to begin with. A parting gift, holding her close as they kissed. He faltered.

“I am afraid you may think strangely of me, or… of my intentions. I wish to speak to you,” he repeated, “but I do not know what it is I wish to say. I apologize.”

Silence filled the space between them. He half expected her to decide she was wasting her time here, and that she had better things to do than to deal with his foolishness… But she laughed. Warm and genuine. Had he been standing, the sound alone would have been enough to make him stumble again. 

“At least you’re honest about it!” she snickered.  “I’m not entirely sure what I want to say to you, either.”

AZ felt his shoulders relax at her words, before he wheezed out a laugh as well. He had always imagined an encounter between them to be filled with bitter vitriol, but here they were, both uncertain.

“We…” he inhaled, “We two are quite similar, are we not? In many ways..” The words were coming easily to him now. She was still his dear friend, despite the time that has passed between them, despite the circumstances of their shared past. 

“The very thing that brought us closer as children created a rift between us as adults. I feel as if during our previous time together, there is much that went unsaid. I was not fully authentic in the ways I expressed my feelings for you— my feelings towards you,” he corrected. “I regret my lack of  patience during our time together. It is a great misfortune that I am still so immature.”

She leaned forward to touch his knee. Her expression was warm… he’d nearly forgotten how much he enjoyed seeing her smile.

“What are you talking about…? I mean— I know about me, but you’ve grown so much. You don’t seem as angry as you were in the past.” 

“It is true that anger no longer consumes me… but I have not yet learned to cope with it,”  he sighed,“I have quite the talent for repression.”

“Well, so do I.”

“Yet another way in which we are similar!”

“Don’t say it like it’s something to be proud of!” Her faux-anger was made obvious by the laughter in her voice. 

“And besides—” she exhaled, clutching a hand to her chest, “And besides!  Both of us were fools to even think it would be a good idea to…” 

She sighed, turning away from him. Her shoulders fell slack, as if some weight stood upon them. The energy she had just a moment ago had been sapped in an instance. AZ watched her, waiting for her to speak again.

“At least… I was foolish, thinking that things could work out between us back.” when she spoke, her voice was small. AZ was reminded of her youth, and how she’d rarely speak unless spoken to. “It must sound pathetic to you, but I thought… maybe if I acted so perfect, if I was so wonderful and sublime, you wouldn't want anything else. It was selfish of me. I knew your true desires were elsewhere, but I still wanted to keep you all to myself.”

“Nerine…” His hand lifted slowly, uncertainly, before reaching towards her. His fingers brushed against her cheek in an attempt to be comforting. She winced, but did not refuse his gesture.

“I am no better. I was selfish as well…” He watched her brow furrow, and her dark eyes swirled with uncertainty.  “A smarter man would have treated you as the beautiful and gentle woman you are, and not as….”

He trailed off. There was a time where he looked upon Nerine and saw not a person, but a great city— a kingdom. The very same he had abandoned so many years ago. He wished to dedicate himself to her in the hopes he could find a way to forgive himself.

When she began to shake, whether from the cold or the conversation itself, AZ gave in to his desire. He collected her into his arms, and settled her between his long legs. Her arms hovered around his body for a brief moment before she decided to place her hands on his back in an awkward embrace. Though it had been so long since they last sat together like this, the feeling of her body leaning against him still felt so familiar.

“You must have wanted the same thing I did…”  He leaned over her, his face burying itself against the cotton-candy of her hair. Nerine, in turn, laid her head against his chest. “To cling desperately to a city whose walls fell long ago. I was unhappy as king. Yet every now and again, my heart longs to return there.”

“Recently,” he continued,  “I decided that I no longer wish to be prisoner to my nostalgia. If I am to keep living, it must be in the present. I assume you feel similarly?”

“I do. I… I know exactly how you feel.  it’s funny, isn’t it…? I always felt as if I didn’t belong in the world when I was younger. Like I was something the gods mistakenly tossed down to Earth. At the same time, it’s… scary. To change yourself, or the circumstances around you. To be forced from your old routines, your old life. Maybe that’s why it was so hard to…”

“To engage with one another as we are now.” AZ finished, “I can’t imagine you would look upon me, and still see a king…”

“Well… I do a little bit. It comes out in the way you talk sometimes. But for the most part… no. More than anything, you come across as a strange old man.”

“Strange, am I…? Hah. When I look at you… I see a very fashionable, very hot-headed young woman.”

“Aza.” her voice turned cold. “I am older than you.”

“Would the lady deny a compliment…?” AZ chuckled, “Fine then… a fashionable, hot-headed woman… who, like me, is an old crone.”

She jolted with a gasp. “Oh, you’re just terrible! I’d rather you call me a young lady if you’re going to say all that!”

She cackled, and AZ grinned, feeling emboldened by the knowledge that he could still make her laugh. He couldn’t help but to smile.

“My point is, Lady Nerine… you offered me a great kindness, allowing me to live out a fantasy of the past. I took advantage of this. I did not allow myself to truly know the person you’ve become. For that, I am greatly sorry.”

“W-what are you talking about!?” Nerine gawked, as if he’d just told her some unbelievable news. “If anything, I was the one taking advantage of you. You had much more important things to worry about than trying to make me of all people happy. I was just wasting your time.”

“Lady Nerine… my time spent with you was  not time wasted. Despite how things ended up, I would not have allowed myself to idle with you for so long if I did not find it valuable.”

Nerine grew quiet after hearing his words. He could feel her arms tighten around him. Her eyes flickered up at him, then away. 

“Well, I… erm…” Nerine searched for her word for what must have been a full minute.  “I am sorry as well. It was cruel of me to expect something out of you that you wouldn't have been able to give in the first place.”

“...Lady Nerine, thank you.”

With their apologies now out in the open, and the bond between them still unbroken, the two turned to idle chatter: You know, I saw that parade… how unlike you, to go marching in front of a crowd like that. …Oh? You’ve been talking to your brother again, too? I’m happy for you, though I’m sure he’s as obnoxious as ever. How has your work been? Oh? You’ve been to Galar recently? …No, I wouldn’t find it boring. Please tell me; I wish to know…

Neither realized how much time had passed until the sun began to peer over the horizon, illuminating the sparse forest with its golden glow. AZ had grown so accustomed to Nerine’s natural warmth, that for a moment he neglected to consider that the heat he felt now was from the coming of day.

“Ah—” Nerine began, “...Oh, that’s right. Tomorrow… or today, I guess… is my day off. You’re lucky… I would’ve had to scold you otherwise.”

Sleepiness had turned her voice soft; she punctuated her sentence with a yawn, looking very much like she were mere seconds away from falling into a deep slumber.

“I apologize for keeping you so long...” AZ replied, though he was not very sorry at all. Speaking to her was a pleasure. When he shifted to keep her from falling over with sleep, he felt something cold and metallic in his pocket. In the excitement of their long conversation, he’d nearly forgotten about it. 

“Nerine… there is… one more thing I wished to discuss with you.” she must have noticed the tenseness of his voice. She pulled away from him for a brief moment so that she could look up at his face, a small frown on her lips.

AZ reached into his pocket, and slowly pulled out the butterfly-shaped key. To most it would have appeared oversized, but it sat perfectly in the palm of AZ’s hand. When he presented it to Nerine, her sleepiness seemed to disappear all at once. She opened her mouth with the intention of speaking, but no words came out.

Gazing upon it again caused an odd sensation to stir within him. His free hand lifted to touch where his own key would have laid had it not been destroyed. He’d grown so accustomed to its weight around his neck, he often forgot it was not still there. 

“The last time we met with one another, you told me to take this, and that you wished to never see it again.  I… do not believe your words then were genuine. I do not want to assume, but I imagine this key means a great deal to you.  And that one day, you would begin to miss it…”

Nerine continued to stare wordlessly at the key in his hand. Beneath the rising sun, it glittered. Though it had been long buried at the bottom of his pack, it still shined as if it had been polished every day.

“Do you, erm… wish to have it returned…?” he could feel his chest grow tight; he hadn't realized how scared he was of the possibility she'd reject it. “Aza… do you remember what this key symbolizes…? Not just for me, but for both of us.” “Of course…” 

“Do you…” she paused, playing idly with the frayed end of his scarf. She looked for a moment as if she remembered something, but did not say what it was. “...still feel that way towards me now?” “I am…” he pried apart the question in his mind. How did he feel about her? He found her beautiful, and being with her just felt right. But did he love her in that way, even now? ”not certain.”

“In that case, I can’t take it from you. Not right now. Not until you’re certain.”  She rose against him, sitting on her knees so that they were eye level. “You’re right in your assumption. I miss it dearly. But to accept it from you would be to accept its long history as well. I’m not ready for that just yet.”

“I don’t know how I feel towards you either,” she continued, “I just know I would like some time. I think that would be best for both of us.”

She pushed up beneath his long bangs, until her lips lingered next to his ear. “There’s no need to rush things, right…? We have all the time in the world.”  Her words were a mere whisper, carried to him by the gentle breeze. He caught the word we and held it. She wants this for both of us. His hands pulled her into a tighter embrace. Even if she does not love me now, she is willing to try. I must become someone worthy of her. 

“Until you are ready for it, I shall keep it safe. Is that agreeable to you?” “I would appreciate it very much if you did. Thank you…”

“Lady Nerine… you are very sweet.” the fact that she would even consider giving him a chance made his heart feel full. He held her tighter, which only served to make her blush.  “I am glad I had this opportunity to talk to you.” “Yes, well… I suppose we have a certain little flower fairy to thank for that, don’t we?” “Mhm.  It is not the first time she has forced me to have a conversation I had been putting off.”

“How unsurprising! You know, despite being a former king… you’re very easy to boss around.” “What can I say? I live to serve.”

Nerine squeezed his shoulders, her eyes gazing upwards at him. The soft wind had blown her hair into disarray.  Since she was in her work attire, her makeup, somewhat messy after so many hours spent awake, was done in a simple style. He focused then on the plum colour that was painted onto her lips, which remained vivid. Something stirred within his breast, some strange excitement that reminded him of his teen years, of the joy and anxiety of holding a girl’s hand for the first time. He found himself leaning towards her, one of his hands tangling itself in the soft pink of her hair. Nerine in turn pulled his scarf, bringing him closer.

The moments their lips met, AZ was struck with a realization;  I’ve missed this. He curled a finger in the long coils of her hair, while Nerine’s grip on his scarf grew tight, as if she was determined not to let him go until she had her fill of him. When she finally pulled away, Nerine blinked slowly. Her body jolted with the realization of what had just happened between them, her cheeks darkened with blush.

 “Um. Well, um. Thank you for, um… thank you.”  “Y-yes, thank you as well…” “I should probably be heading home now…” “Yes, of course. It has been quite a few hours, hasn’t it?”

Nerine stood, and pulled her coat tighter around herself. Though her gaze was fixed firmly at the ground beneath her feet, he watched as she brought a hand up to her mouth, her finger brushing softly against her lips. After a few brief steps forward, she stopped to look at AZ over her shoulder.

“...Will I see you again soon?” her voice was barely above a whisper; had he not been so fixated on her in that moment he likely would not have heard it. “If you would allow me, I would cherish an opportunity  to visit you.”

“Don’t be a stranger then, alright? You know where to find me.” She turned to face him, and AZ noticed that her lipstick was slightly smeared.  “Well, then… goodbye for now.” AZ watched as her  figure disappeared beyond the small clearing of trees, and became little more than a speck on the horizon. It was only when she was completely out of sight that he realized how much tension he’d been holding:  his shoulders fell slack, and he breathed as if it were his first in centuries.

The sun finished its ascent, and the world was swathed in its golden light. The perpetual snowfall that laid in the forest was illuminated with a speckled glow. He was much too distracted to take in the scenery before him. Were he younger he might have chased after Nerine, but for now… He outstretched an arm, holding one of his hands open. Soon,  Floette fluttered down into his hand, her expression as innocent as ever. AZ poked her small forehead with his index finger, a frown on his face.

“I should scold you,” he huffed. “Look at the situation you’ve gotten me in.” Floette blinked at him slowly, as if she were confused as to what he was referring to. But AZ knew better than to fall for her tricks. “Fine then. I admit it. I’ve… missed her.” when she merely giggled at him, his indignant tone softened.  “...I would very much like to see her again. Sooner, rather than later.  that is what you wanted to hear, yes?”

Floette nodded. If you want her to love you again… you have to put in the work! And… I think she wants the same from you, too.  

“The things I would do for even a fraction of your energy…”, he sighed. But he knew her words were true. He knew she was right. If this was something he wanted… he could not fall victim to his own passiveness. Just a few years ago, such a task would seem daunting to him. And in truth, he was still scared. But he would be a fool to squander this opportunity to start over with her.

“I will… pursue this. It is something I want,” he said it firmly now, knowing how intensely his heart desired this. “Though if I am to do this… I have one request for you.” What is it? Floette gasped. “...Never do anything like this again.” 

Floette pouted, but did not complain. When AZ finally stood, she squeezed herself into the curve of his scarf. He had no doubt that she’d eavesdropped on the long entirety of his conversation with Nerine, and would be asleep for the next few hours. Careful as to not wake her, AZ began to step forward, a renewed sense of purpose now guiding him onwards.

[daily-xisuma]

[173] Writing!

[sentientcave]

Please Say Yes

Part 6 - The Question

Read on AO3

Contains: John Price x OC (Chelsea), This is just cutesy nonsense, low-stakes romance, pregnancy, breeding kink, daddy kink, alcohol, smoking, divorce mentions, annoying ex, Slight scheming (mutual), Good vibes all around, bootblacking

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~3.1k - 18+ - MDNI

They finished the tiling late in the afternoon the next day, and went home, leaving Chelsea alone in her house again. Strangely, it didn’t feel as good as it had just a few days before— She’d found it all too easy to get used John and his friends in the house, working and keeping her company, and now the house felt too big and too quiet to bear. She would have asked them to stay longer, but she had promised Krissy that she would fill-in for someone on her football team that night, and had to send them off, unfed, which seemed unfair, considering how much they had done for her, even though they all told her she didn’t need to do anything to thank them.

She turned on some music while she ate and changed into a pair of black shorts and a tank top (Krissy had promised to bring her proper shoes and an extra jersey, so she didn’t have to worry about that), and headed out on her bike.

Krissy was in the lot next to the field already by the time Chelsea got there, leaning on her car and chatting with their friend Robyn and Robyn’s friend Liv. She waved Chelsea over, grinning. “We were just talking about you, babes. Have you seen the shit that Derek’s been posting on facebook about you?”

Chelsea groaned. “No, I have him blocked. What’s he on about now?”

Robyn snickered. “Sad boy shite. What was that one? All those years together and you threw me away… I miss you Chelsea.”

Chelsea rolled her eyes while Liv and Krissy dissolved into giggles. “Jesus. I should have saved some of the voicemails he’s left me. It’d be pretty clear really fast why I left him, even without the actual catalyst.”

“Why do all the decent looking men have to be such knobs?” Liv asked, shaking her head. “It’s like they never learned about personalities and why you’re supposed to have one.”

Krissy dug in her duffel bag and tossed the jersey and shoes and a pair of tall socks to Chelsea. “He messaged me asking if you were sleeping with your neighbour, too. I said yes, so if what’s his name gets egged or something, that’s probably Derek’s doing.”

“Kris! Why would you do that?”

She laughed. “Because it’s funny. And your neighbours military, right? I’m sure he can handle Derek, if it comes to it. Don’t worry so much. He’s gonna give up sooner if he thinks there’s no chance of you getting back together with him. Getting on a new horse is a good way to communicate that.”

“Is he hot? Maybe just sleep with him for real,” Robyn suggested. “Send Derek a picture of you cuddled up with him.”

“You are all terrible influences,” Chelsea grumbled, sitting down on the grass to change her shoes and socks.

“So he is handsome,” Liv said.

“He’s also— Okay, so this is going to sound a bit mad, but I’m thinking about asking John— the neighbour— to father my child. Like, I don’t need to be in a relationship to have a kid. I can do it on my own. But I don’t want to sleep with him and make him think I’m trying to trap him with a baby. I think I should look for the no-strings attached sex somewhere else, you know? It could get kind of messy otherwise.”

“Are you gonna get him to donate sperm?” Robyn sat down on the grass next to Chelsea, tucking her short black hair behind he ear. “Or are you going to do things the old fashioned way? Because, I mean, there’s no reason why you can’t have fun while you’re trying to get knocked up.”

“I just— I don’t know, it might be awkward! I don’t think I’d say no if he wanted to— But I’m not going to ask him for that. I’m not totally sure he’s straight, or remotely interested.”

Krissy snorted. “You’ve never fucked a military guy before have you? As far as I’ve seen, most of them aren’t picky. A hole’s a hole.”

Chelsea grimaced. “Krissy, that’s disgusting.”

“I’m just sayin’! Don’t be a prude, Chels. There’s like, zero chance he’ll say no to a good fuck. And you’re a great fuck.” Krissy elbowed Liv, smirking. “She’s like, a sexy, kinky dynamo. You wouldn’t know it from looking at her.”

“Krissy, will you stop telling people that?” Chelsea groaned. “I get enough weirdness as is.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t be weird about it,” Liv promised, grinning. “I actually saw you at that ropes workshop last month, I was there with my girlfriend. The pink hair’s pretty distinctive.”

Chelsea had to think about it for a moment. “Oh, you’re Marnie’s girlfriend, right? Sorry, I didn’t recognize you out of context. Didn’t know you knew Kris and Robyn.”

“It’s okay. We only talked for like, zero-point-two seconds. And Marnie did most of the talking.” Liv offered Chelsea a hand up once she was done lacing up the borrowed shoes. “You any good at football?”

“Not really. But I’ll do my best not to lose you the game.”

“Oh please, Chels. It’s a rec league. We’re just here to have fun,” Robyn said, laughing. “You just have to kick the ball around with us. We’d have to forfeit if we showed up with too-few players. Winning is not necessary. Now come on, lets get in there, eh?”

Chelsea still gave it her all, rec league or no, and by the time the game ended she was tired and sore with grass stains and mud on her elbows, and had laughed so much and so hard that her abs cramped. She bid goodbye to her friends after the obligatory handshakes and a brief chat with the opposing team (the other team had won, but by less than Chelsea might have initially predicted. She even managed to score one goal), and started off home, leaning heavily on her bike rather than trying to ride it with her jellied legs.

It took a bit longer to walk home, and it started raining by the time she reached her street, not too hard, but in the steady, persistent way that was liable to last all night. By the time she reached her driveway, she was cold and soaked through and looking very forward to a hot shower.

Shit. The grout was still setting in the bathroom— She was pretty sure it wasn’t a good idea to get it wet or walk on it too soon. She just kept walking automatically, headed towards John’s house now. He’d probably let her use his shower. If not, she supposed that stripping naked and standing in the cold rain wasn’t completely out of the question, it just sounded terrible.

She knocked on the door, and it was only a moment before John opened it, surprise giving way to a smile right away. “Hey, peach,” he said. “You’re all wet.”

“It’s raining,” she explained lamely. “I was wondering if I could use your shower? I think you said earlier that I shouldn’t walk on the tiles until tomorrow.”

“Course. Come on in.” He stepped back to let her in, leaning over her to close and lock the door. “I was just thinking that things were a little quiet. Boys went back to Gaz’s for the night.”

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing after you all left mine earlier. You guys are kinda nice to have around.” Chelsea crouched down to unlace her shoes, glancing up at him sheepishly. “When are you all headed back to base?”

“Sunday night. Might get deployed early, got a call from Kate earlier that she’s close to some intel, might have to move fast once she gets it.”

“So soon?” Chelsea asked. “You only got back a few days ago.”

“Well, it’s just how it goes, sometimes. Hopefully won’t be gone as long as last time. A month, maybe. Let me go warm up the shower for you. Takes a minute.” He retreated before she could collect her thoughts and say anything in return.

She’d hoped to have a couple weeks to work up the nerve to ask her question, to ask a few probing questions of her own to see if he would be the slightest bit interested before she embarrassed herself. It was a nerve-wracking subject to raise, to say the least.

Setting her shoes nearly to the side, she ventured further into John’s house. It was familiar to her by this point, she was in there at least once a week when he was away, but it was a bit strange being inside when he was home too, the lingering smell of smoke and the faint traces of John’s cologne and leather polish in the air. When she peeked into the living room, she saw that he’d been getting ready to polish his boots, a half-smoked cigar and a glass with a few fingers of whiskey in it sitting off to the side.

“All set." John's voice behind her made her jump slightly, even though she should have expected it. "Hop on in. You hungry at all?"

"Um, kind of, but don't worry about that. I've got food at home. I’m probably just gonna have tea and toast anyway.”

“Think I can handle tea and toast,” he said, giving her a warm smile. “Go have your shower.”

“Yes sir,” Chelsea laughed. “On it, sir.” She pivoted to head upstairs a little too soon to see the spark of heat in his eyes.

There was something strangely intimate about using John’s shower, though. Fully naked in his house, washing with soap that smelled like him, drying off with towels that smelled like his laundry detergent. He’d noticed that she didn’t have a bag with clean dry clothes in it too, because he’d left a pair of sweatpants with a drawstring waist and an old t-shirt with the SAS logo on the front of it. She had to roll up the pants to keep the hems from dragging on the ground, but there was something all too comfortable about wearing John’s clothes. She’d worn his borrowed shirt to bed the last few nights, but this was more epochal, made more substantive by the fact that he would actually witness it. As far as he knew, his shirt had been laying in her laundry pile, or hanging over the back of a chair since he wrapped it around her the other night.

She hung up the towels and her damp clothes, convictions shaking somewhat. Maybe it wouldn’t be wise to ask that kind of favour from John. It was one thing to watch his place and water his plants, or let him help her with work around the house, but asking him to father her child… It would change the comfortable relationship they had.

But then again, it already had changed. They hadn’t been this close when Derek was still around. They hadn’t shared meals or spent time in each other’s homes or cuddled on her couch during a movie before.

John handed her a mug of tea as soon as she stepped into the kitchen. “How was football?” he asked. “Did you have fun?”

Chelsea nodded, leaning her hip into the counter, both hands curled around the mug. “Yeah, it was nice. Even scored a goal, shockingly enough. Been told I’m now the first person they’re gonna call when someone can’t show.”

“Not bad, eh?” John stuck a few slices of bread into the toaster and picked up his own tea. “Figure with all the bikin’ about you do that you’d be a decent runner.”

“Definitely works some different muscles though. I’m going to feel it tomorrow. Good thing my only plans are sitting around my stall.”

“What, not planning on walkin’ through the rest of it?” John asked. “The boys can handle things long enough for you to see what else is goin’ on.”

“I can’t ask them to do that. You’ve all done plenty, John, I’ll just be glad for the company, really.”

“Don’t think you were askin’.”

“You really still want to come with me? Even though you’re headed back so soon?”

“Course. What do you like on you toast? I’ve got butter and…” He opened a cupboard and took out a jar, frowning at the label. “Marmalade, I guess. Don’t remember ever buyin’ it, but it’s still sealed, so…”

“Works for me, thanks.” Chelsea took a deep breath to steel herself, ready to steer the conversation into tricky waters, when John’s phone rang, breaking the silence.

He apologized, and stepped into the other room to take the call, leaving Chelsea to her toast and her thoughts. She didn’t try to parse what he was saying, but the low cadence of his voice was pleasant, and he laughed a few times. Not a work call, like as not.

She finished her tea and toast and washed the mug and plate, setting both into the dishrack just as John came back in. “Sorry, love. That was my mum. Left her a message earlier that I wouldn’t be able to make it to dinner on Sunday, and she was callin’ me back.”

“That’s too bad. You probably don’t get a lot of chances to see your family.”

“No, it’s for the best. She’s been tryin’ to set me up with someone from her book club. Told her I was seein’ someone, which will work as an excuse for a while, until she wants to meet the lucky lady.” He shrugged. “You stickin’ around a while? Was just going to give my boots a polish before you came over. It can wait.”

“If you ever need a fake girlfriend for a family dinner, I’d be happy to help you out. I’m good with moms,” Chelsea offered. “And, um, I could do your boots too. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about, and sometimes it’s easier when I’ve got something to do with my hands.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Boots on or off, up to you. I’m more used to on, but I guess some people find that awkward. I bootblack at some kink events now and again,” she explained, answering the questioning quirk of his eyebrows. “And for friends.”

“Don’t tell the lads, or they’ll want you to polish theirs too.” John sat down on the couch and pulled his boots back on, offering Chelsea a couch pillow to kneel on while she worked.

“I don’t mind. I like doing it, or I wouldn’t’ve offered.” She settled down in front of him and patted her thigh. “Right foot, please.”

He settled his foot where she indicated. “I’m just worried that they’ll get some ideas, with you on your knees in front of them.”

“They wouldn’t be the first,” Chelsea laughed. “When you’re pink and cute and into leather, people, and especially really specific types of guys, get a lot ideas.” She pulled the laces free, glancing up at him. “Switch feet.” When he obeyed, she pulled the laces from that boot too, and twisted to grab a rag from the table behind her, hand braced on the top of his boot. She eyed the glass of water, and glanced at John again. “Is the water for this, or were you drinking it?”

“For this.” His voice had lowered to a purr, rumbling in his chest, blue eyes trained on her face. “Suppose a spit-shine’s not in the cards?”

Chelsea snorted, shaking her head as she wet the rag and dragged the laces through it a few times. “That how you like it, captain?”

He shifted forward in his seat. “Sometimes. Careful, peaches, or I’m going to get ideas.”

“So noted.” She draped the laces around her neck and twisted again, picking up a big rectangular brush with soft horsehair bristles. She ran the brush over one boot and then the other, knocking loose any debris. It was easy to get lost in the routine, working lather over the well-maintained leather, although there was an unfamiliar energy running through her now, voltage increasing every time she looked up to meet John’s intense blue eyes. There was no denying that they had a certain chemistry, and not as one-sided as she had assumed.

“What was it that you wanted to talk about?” John asked.

Busied hands hardly made the topic easier to broach, but she was still grateful for something to do while she gathered her thoughts. “How come you never got married or had kids?” she asked. Probably the best place to start. If he was ideologically opposed to having kids, then she could save herself the stress of asking her primary question. “Never wanted to?”

He hummed, picking up his whiskey glass. “Definitely wanted to. Did once, when I was young, but it didn’t last. Just hard to make it work. Hard to ask someone to wait around. Harder to get to know people in the first place. Always dated for keeps, and a lot of women thought I was a bit… Intense.” His moustache twitched. “Guess I stopped tryin’. Figured I’d just have to try and catch up after retirement.” He regarded her for a long moment, taking a sip from his glass. “Why do you ask?”

She wiped the last of the lather off the boots and picked up the tin of polish. “I was just— You don’t have to answer this right now, please think about it, as long as you need to— If you maybe wanted to be the father of my baby.” She popped the lid off the tin, the acrid-sweet smell of solvents and wax hitting her nose and clearing her head. “I don’t want— I don’t think I want to go through all that marriage shit again, so it would be just that. And you don’t have to be involved. I’m prepared to go it alone. But um. You could be, a bit, if you wanted to be.”

There was a quiet click as he set the glass down again, and the slight rustle of clothing as he leaned forward and pulled the tin out of her hands, closing it up and setting it to the side. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. If you want.” She stared down at her empty hands, struck by the surrealism of the moment. Kneeling on the floor in front of her friend and neighbour, asking him to— Asking him for— God, she felt so stupid, he wouldn’t want—

His big hands closed around hers, and he pulled her forward between his knees. He tipped her chin up so she had no choice but to meet his eyes, earnest and cornflower blue. “I want to.”

Title card made on Canva - Image Credits: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 Banners by @/cafekitsune

[inhuman-obey-me]

Congratulations on a well deserved 4000+!

If you don't mind can I request 😴 with belphie+ Mc?

Thank you so much!! ;//u//;

"Don't you worry about your bad dreams, 'cause I'm not in them." - Belphegor/MC

content warning: psychological horror, blood, implied body horror

It starts with a heavy pressure on your chest, as if some creature has crawled through the shadows to come and sit atop your heart. 

Then it spreads, an inky dread that slithers its way up to your throat and wraps itself around and around and around. And then it tightens.

Slowly. Suffocatingly. 

‘It’s horrible here, isn’t it?’

Another night, another cruel whisper in your head from a voice you don’t recognize. You can feel sharp claws sink into your flesh, and a haze takes over your mind. You try to fight it, but it only gets worse. 

‘Just open your eyes, you’ll see.’

And so you do, knowing what it is you will see. It’s been the same for the past two nights: a warped version of the House of Lamentation, blood seeping through cracks and running down the walls. A static seems to fill the air, further distorting anything you look at like some unsettling funhouse mirror. The room sways and rocks, but you try to step forward – only for your heel to be met with a loud crunch. With a gulp, you bring your gaze down to see what it is you stepped on.

It’s you. Whatever’s left of you, that is. 

‘You don’t belong here. It’s not safe.’

The voice gets louder, more insistent, more chilling. 

‘You should leave. Now.’

“The only one who should be leaving is you, Milalu.” 

In an instant, the haze dissipates and the horrors fade away to reveal a strange plane of clouds and stars, a comforting blanket of lavender and twilight embracing you. The scream that was stuck in your throat now turns into a near-sob of relief at the familiar voice. You turn to find him, and before a single thought can form you find yourself running straight into his arms. 

“Are you okay?” He asks softly, and you answer with a silent nod.

“Belphegoooor,” The raspy voice calls out, a dark cloud taking the rough shape of a demon before you. “We were just having some fun.”

“We? Do you really think I’m stupid?” Belphegor snarls, tightening his hold on you. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice? You, idiotically waltzing into a dream under my roof? Threatening my human?” 

“I wasn’t threatening.” Milalu answers, their ghostly hands coming up as if to push the accusation away. “I was merely trying to be…influential.” 

“Influential my ass.” Belphegor gives you a squeeze before releasing you, now stepping towards the other demon. “What, trying to scare them away so they leave? You really think you’re that good? That you have any power over them?” 

“All humans are influenceable. It would be a bad dream for me if they weren’t.” Milalu turns to look at you, their sharp eyes trying to pierce your soul, but Belphegor quickly grabs them by the neck and lifts them into the air.

“Oh, don’t you worry about your bad dreams,” he hisses with vitriol, his own demon form shifting into something more frightening as his tail thrashes to and fro. “Because I’m not in them – but maybe that should change.” 

He pauses, then, and looks to you, a gentle command leaving his lips. 

“Close your eyes.”

So you do, a garbled scream from Milalu quickly deafened by warm wind that swirls around you and returns you to the comfort of your bed.

When you awaken, you find Belphegor watching you with a mix of affection and frustration. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I…I thought it would stop, eventually.” You lower your gaze, embarrassed that he had to see you in such a state. He sighs, cupping your face with one hand.  

“I know you’re strong, but you shouldn’t let anyone mess with you like that.” He sighs, a thumb brushing your cheek. “If something like that ever happens again, you need to tell me right away. Promise me that, starlight.” 

“...Okay. I promise.” You nod, moving closer to him in the bed and placing a chaste kiss on his lips. 

“Thank you.”

[bunnys-beetlejuice-blog]

How to Talk So She Will Listen, and Listen So She Will Talk - Chapter 3 - moonbunnyblues - Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King [Archive of Our Own]

its a new office au chapter! against all odds!

[celestetcetera]

Summary: Months after all the drama that occurred at the society, Lanyon is learning to navigate his new relationship with Jekyll and Hyde. Problem one: he seems to be having some difficulty kissing his partner without inciting a transformation.

[shootingstarpilot]

Last Line Challenge

Rules: Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like). 

Got tagged by the indomitable @laurabwrites, and a flare-up has kept me up long past my normal bedtime, so... what better time?

He hears a huff of laughter before Helix rises to his feet. “Drink your hot chocolate, kid,” he says, not unkindly. “Needle’s recipe. Get some calories in you. We’ll talk after about how we can stop that from happening again.” “Okay,” Ben agrees. Exhaustion is creeping up like ivy. “You should check Needle’s arm, though.” His vision is blurry enough that he can’t make out Helix’s expression, but the sudden stillness tells enough. Next to him, he feels Needle sigh, and pokes him. “You carried me.” “And I’d do it again, you horrible little gremlin,” Needle grumbles, and Ben turns his head to the side and smiles into Needle’s shirt. “Just you wait until you’re better. I’ll teach you hand-to-hand and then flatten you into the mat.” “You could try.”

Tagging @themonopolyhat, @drauthor, @shadow-pixelle, @aquaticflames, @foreverchangingfandomsao3, and... an open tag to anyone who wants the motivation! Best of luck!

[browniesarethebest]

I'm like 1000 words into the next chapter of A Mother's Love and I haven't even hit the main plot of the chapter yet. This might actually be longer than the last chapter